


What's Left Behind

by Aerine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (chuckles) I'm in danger, Angst, F/M, Spoilers, Yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerine/pseuds/Aerine
Summary: “What about those left behind, struggling to reach that same amount of normalcy they were promised? What more is there to say?”





	What's Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Another angsty one-shot oops

They all say that your life will resume eventually, that everything will return to normalcy until the year follows because you’re supposed to not let it consume your life. They hold you as you remain stiff in their embrace, your shoulder wet with the taste of salt and sorrow as they look for you for comfort. They don’t ask why tears don’t fall past your eyelashes, for they know you too well. None of it ever changes, _that_ you are sure of, except your eyes fall to the ripples of water that spread from grief-stricken clouds contrasting your impassive demeanor with the realization that change is more prevalent than you would have liked. Of course, you can snap your fingers and drag the clouds from their despondence, perhaps become the light the world was in need of a year ago, but you wonder how fitting that would be when the light of your life was extinguished that same day.

The world isn’t as it was without him, yet a child remains unaware of that as her footprints stop just behind yours near the lake. Her hair grows past her shoulders, her outfit as red as the suit her father spent his life in, yet a smile stretches at her chubby cheeks not knowing just how important she is… _was_ to him—to you. Her tiny frame wraps around one of your legs, and she, Morgan, calls your name until you’re obligated to spare a glance over your shoulder, a grin tugging on your lips that’s too much of a façade for a child to inquire about. Her hair begins to frizz, strands becoming out of place as she stands outside in the rain for what seems like no reason at all, and a thought runs rampant that Tony beyond existence thinks you need her.

_That’s the last person I need, someone like you._

The world is no longer the same now that the infamous playboy philanthropist is gone, a title you once loathed hearing, and you notice the change happening when a teenager stands adjacent to you by the lake house. Like Morgan, Peter finds your frown in his periphery before mimicking your actions and shuffling his gaze towards a lake meant for the loss of many. Your eyes remain fixated on petals drifting in the waters, petals of a flower that decorated the brief eulogy of a man who sacrificed a life he once fought for so those close to him can continue the fight to live as their own. You almost fail to remember that the last of his legacy is frolicking behind you in the pouring rain because the tribute of flowers embracing his soul was off without a body or mind to dictate it, now frivolous in the bottom of the sea. Is society aware of that? Are the people aware who they truly lost?

“I miss him,” Peter chokes out with a shake of his head, as he is but a child still naïve to loss and how it will tear him apart regardless of whether he deserves it or not. The Grim Reaper will catch his fleeting gaze, and only then will he realize of how expendable he is in this world.

You miss him too, you suppose; you miss his smart mouth and you miss his impact he left on the world when the only danger was to New York—finer days, as New York truly needed the upgrade in their subway systems. You reminisce of that grin reserved only for you when you were positive he was the one. You miss the moment he soared into space with the promise that you would be alright, because regardless of what happened, nothing would change but the absence of a man too good for this world. The years have not been kind to you since, because the world fell apart eventually until you were forced to pick up the pieces of everyone you lost, futile attempts to reunite them weighing at your conscious because normalcy depended on it. The second Tony Stark decided that he was going to end all of it, the regret, melancholy, the ache in your heart that life was meant for more than this, the second you found that the lack of snide comments and childlike independence was something that could never be replaced.

Morgan cries out your name, dirt coating her hands as she digs into the earth with a grin reserved for you, and you return the favor by allowing the tears to trail down your chin. The droplets glisten on your skin, persevering despite your pleads for them to stop. They _told_ you that life will be better, that he will be but a distant thought that will fuel you to live if not for his lingering memory. They told you that he is in a better place, where he no longer has to worry about the fate of the world he fought so hard to protect, sitting idle until people like you follow him into a blissful afterlife you fucking knew didn’t exist. Perhaps that’s the hope people hold onto, that there exists a place more than the one they occupy, a paradise where their loved ones wait, and wait, and _wait_ until they are ready to move on.

What about Morgan? What the hell are you supposed to tell her?

What about those left behind, struggling to reach that same amount of normalcy they were promised? What more is there to say?


End file.
